Thunder
by Sockitysocks
Summary: Kitmas and Jiles in a thunderstorm, with a bit of fluff. Well, a lot of fluff. Okay it's nearly all fluff. Very muddy fluff in Jiles' case...


**So there was a thunder storm the other night, and I ended up sat on my window sill at I think 2 in the morning texting my friend and it was decreed that I should write Kitmas and Jiles into a storm, then she pointed out that Kitmas would have the common sense to get out of the rain... and so this came to pass..  
(that sounded strangely dramatic!)  
anyhoo! as of yet un beta'd because the effort it would take to email this to my friend simply isn't worth it, so I apologise for any mistakes! (I should clarify that this _was_ written on my phone while sat on the windowsill... so who knows what the grammar will be like)  
Allons-y!  
**

The bright flash of lightening was the only warning they received of the coming storm.

The sky flashed white with such strength that the mud seemed to glow purple under its glare. The thunder followed seconds after and with it came the rain, practically invisible against the night's sky the rain was only visible where the few lanterns hung, shining their shallow boxes of light into the silvery spears.

The grounds quickly became puddles, and then rivers of black water as feet churned up the mud to escape the downpour.

Lightening flashed across the sky again, and for a brief moment the world shone with the colours of midday. And then the light vanished and it was dark again.

There were shouts for everyone to get under cover and Kitty found herself skidding across the surface of the mud before she managed to regain her footing just long enough to stumble into the tent nearest to her, Tom followed moments later, his hands closing around her waist as the mud fought him for control of his feet.

Both were laughing by the time they regained their balance shaking water drops from their clothing. Tom peeled off the soaked wool of his jacket and flung it onto the bed, his cap following. Tom was laughing even more as Kitty rolled her eyes and hung the discarded jacket over the back of a chair making sure to straighten the sleeves out so it would dry properly.

Tom pulled the open flap of the tent closed, blocking all light from the outside as well as the rain. Grinning flirtatiously he wrapped his arms around her from behind, burying his face in her neck and planting soft kisses along her flushed skin.

Kitty's neck arched at his touch revealing more skin for his lips to explore. She leant back into his arms allowing him to take the weight off her tired feet, her fingers joining his on her hips.

Tom nibbled gently on her ear lobe, the wisps of hair that escaped from the braid tickling his cheeks.  
She turned her head, so that his lips were brushing over her cheekbone, then her jaw, and it wasn't long before he found her lips. He kissed the corner of her mouth so lightly she barely felt it, and yet it was enough to send lightening surging through her veins.

As if to embody her thoughts another sheet of lightening lit the tent through the thick tarpaulin, the sound of rain pounding on the material sounding even stronger in the silence following the clap of thunder.

Kitty shifted her feet so that she was facing Tom, not that she could see him until another second of light lit his features as if it was day.

From the way his damp hair clung to his forehead and the way his nose cast a shadow across his lips to the shining colours of his eyes which only seemed to grow brighter with the dark.

He was truly beautiful. Even in the dark.

"I really should change," Kitty whispered regrettably against his lips when he leant forward.

Tom ignored her, a smile dancing across his lips as he caught hers with his.

"I'm soaking," Kitty tried to convince him, her tone suggesting she was as much convincing herself as she kissed him back without the intention of stopping anytime soon.

It was only when she began to shiver as the cold water tracked a path down her spine that she ruefully pulled away from Tom. "I won't be a moment," she whispered against his mouth.

That was when she realised the flaw in her plan.

"Can I borrow a shirt?"

Tom was about to ask why, then his brain caught up with him. Kitty was here - in his tent - soaking wet, and her clothes were - of course - in her tent.

They both knew that the logical solution would be for Kitty to make one last dash through the rain to her tent, and then change and stay there, but neither of them needed to point out that they didn't want Kitty to leave.

Another option would be for Kitty to fetch a dry dress, but by the time she'd brought it back it would in much the same state as the one she was currently wearing, thus eliminating the purpose of venturing back out into the rain completely.

The only other option was for Kitty to borrow a shirt.

It took him nearly two minutes to find one in the dark, only aided by the occasional flashes of lightening.

Tom's shins had found nearly every single other piece of furniture before he finally found the trunk which eventually produced a shirt.

"Why don't you just light the lanterns?" Kitty asked, muffling a laugh as Tom swore again - the desk that time she thought.

"Miles tidied the matches away somewhere," Tom grumbled rubbing the latest bruise forming on his leg. "And frankly I'm too scared to attempt looking for them." He passed the shirt to where his eyes could almost make a slightly darker shape that looked like Kitty.

Taking the shirt Kitty laughed in agreement. "Thanks."

She tugged at the buttons at the back of the dress then paused. "Can you turn around?"

"It's not like I can see a thing anyway," Tom rolled his eyes but complied with her request. At least he thought so, it was near impossible to tell which way he was facing at any time.

Kitty pulled the shirt across her back as she let the dress fall to the floor, it was already covered in mud; a bit more wouldn't hurt.

She was fairly sure that she'd buttoned the shirt up wrong, but it would suffice, she pulled at the sheets of one of the beds - probably Miles' for she thought Tom was stood next to his- and wrapped the blanket around her shoulders.  
Lightening flashed again and the sound of the rain hardened against the thick material sheltering them from the weather.

Kitty was feeling a lot warmer when she'd changed, and she was more than happy with her clean crisp shirt that smelt comfortingly of Tom. "I'm decent," she told him, "at least I'm dressed," she added with a laugh as she shook her hair out to give it a chance to dry.

"I'm sure you look beautiful," Tom grinned from somewhere in the darkness, then there came a thud and he swore again as he found the corner of the bed.

Laughing, Kitty followed the sound and her outstretched hand found his and he pulled her towards him. She shivered slightly as the damp wool of his shirt rubbed against her face. With a coy smile she found the buttons of his shirt and pulled them apart.

"What are you doing?" Tom asked, a hint of anxiety in his tone as he caught her hands.

Kitty couldn't help but laugh at his shyness. It was frankly one of the things she loved most about him. "Relax," she ordered with a laugh, "It's still damp. You need to change."

"In case you hadn't noticed, you're wearing my other shirt," Tom pointed out, although he dropped his hands from hers, letting her carry on until she'd peeled the damp shirt from his torso.

Tom's now loose braces hung at his sides, his trousers falling to sit loosely on his hips but somehow he found that he couldn't care about propriety. It was dark anyway. Though he wasn't sure if that in fact made the situation even less respectable.

Kitty just smiled curling her arms through his, and resting her head against his bare chest. "You don't need to go anywhere do you?" She asked quietly, dreading him to say he had patients to attend. Partly because that would mean she would have to relinquish claim on his shirt.

"No," he smiled into her hair. "I don't."

..

Unlike the rest of humanity this side of the front, who had sensibly run for cover when the heaven's opened, two figures were running through the woods surrounding the small hospital. The fact that they were actually running away from the cover of the tents instead of towards it didn't seem to bother them – if they even knew it.

Their khaki uniform had grown considerably darker from the amount of rain waterlogging the wool, though this didn't seem to affect either of them in the slightest. The soldier following lengthened his stride so that he caught up with the one in front, arms encircling their waist as he lifted them. Jo squealed as Miles spun her around, her legs flailing out before her and her arms gripping his where they wrapped around her, partly in fear of him dropping her.

"Put me down!" She protested, unable to cover the fact she was laughing.

Miles complied, so to speak. He released his grip so that she slid from him grasp, splashing into the watery mud beneath her. She gasped as the cold water seeped straight through her already sodden clothes; somehow rain always felt colder from a puddle than from the sky.

"You said put me down," Miles protested as he was dragged into the mud beside her. He flicked his hands, mud flying from his fingers and hitting Jo in the face.

She gasped again as the cold mud slid down her cheeks, and ran inside her collar. With a euphoric smile she scooped her hands deep into the mud and as Miles' eyes widened she lobbed it straight at him.

Whatever protest he'd been about to give was cut off as, with an audible splat, the mud connected with his face, covering him. He spat a large amount of it out, pulling a face and scraping his teeth down his tongue in an attempt to remove the taste of earth. "That wasn't very mature," he commented, taking on a self-righteous demeanour.

Before Jo even had a chance to think about mocking him a handful of mud hit her in the shoulder and she let out a surprised laugh. "You were saying?" She retorted, sending back her own muddy fire.

"I'm a Captain!" Miles yelled back as he attempted to duck beneath the projectile. "I can do anything I please and still be the height of sophistication!"

His well-aimed throw connected with the centre of her chest as she tried to catch her breath from laughing at the idea of anything about Miles being sophisticated. "Unfair," she complained, "You're no longer allowed to make me laugh – it's distracting."

Miles' only response was to throw one last mud shell at her which she /almost/ avoided as it splattered against the tree behind her, covering her back as it did so. She held up her hands in surrender, "okay! You win!" She grinned. "I concede!"

If Miles' face been happy before he was undoubtedly euphoric now as he crawled towards her, his hands and knees squelching in the thick mud as he did so.

A clap of thunder sounded above them and Jo's head ducked instinctively at the noise. Miles laughed slightly at her reaction, "it's only thunder you know."

"Shut up, it's called a reflex." She punched him lightly on the shoulder. "If you didn't keep your head down, you wouldn't have a head to keep."

Miles grinned. "In that case I'm very glad you did keep yours down; I don't think you'd suit not having a head." He lifted a muddy hand, pointlessly brushing her short hair away from her forehead. The only thing he really achieved was dripping mud down her face.

She swatted his hand away playfully. "You're going to ruin your uniform down there," she commented, ignoring the fact that she too was sat in the mud. "And I'm not volunteering to be the one to polish those shoes for you."

Miles glanced briefly at his once shiny brown shoes – they were still brown, just a different shade of brown, mud brown, and definitely less shiny. He grinned shrugging; in his opinion shoes shouldn't shine. There was nothing wrong with putting a bit of polish on them now and then to keep the rain out, but shoes had to work for a living. They shouldn't /shine/. Unfortunately the army disagreed with him about that.

"It's alright," he smiled coyly, "you can polish them when you do your own," he flicked his tongue out then immediately regretted it as he licked the mud from his lips. He pulled a face again. "Nasty."

Jo laughed and wiped the mud from around his mouth with her sleeve. It didn't really make that much difference. He stretched his neck out from where he was still crouched on all fours, he couldn't quite reach to kiss her unless he moved, but he wasn't entirely certain that when he moved he wouldn't fall face first into the mud. Jo made up the last few inches, meeting him in the middle.

"You taste like mud," she commented after a moment, her words muffled against his mouth.

"Well whose fault is that?" He pointed out, finally shuffling his knees closer to her as he placed one hand on the nape of her neck for balance. "I definitely didn't throw mud in my own face."

Jo pulled back for a moment, a thoughtful expression across her face. "Are you sure? It sounds a lot like something you would do…"

Miles' let out a low complaint, closer to a growl than anything else as he pushed himself forwards, catching her mouth with his as they both toppled over, landing with a splash into the waterlogged mud.

Even with the colds that came in the morning, and the bloody murder that the Colonel yelled at them for ruining their uniforms, they stood in his office watching his face go red with the effort of sustaining his annoyance, grinning to each other every time they thought he wasn't looking. Neither of them regretted it one bit.

**Umm.. yeah, so there you go!  
reviews are received very happily, and if there's anything you want me to write about just let me know!  
sockitysocks :)**


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